The Story of the Fire Dragon and the Ice Prince
by Mrs.Gotenks
Summary: Brown. Grey Blonde. Red. Ice. Fire. They were so different but so perfect. They were broken but it's exactly what makes them whole.


**Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Just another fan.**

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She knew him.

She knew him like the back of her hand.

She knew him.

He was as everybody had said. He was a sarcastic and narcissistic arse. He was charismatic but with a dash-no two cups of pessimism. He was confident. Always so sure of himself. Not once did he falter and for awhile she thought he was the only student who did not struggle with esteem issues. He walked as if a red carpet were embracing his feet and he spoke as if there were crowds of followers behind him, waiting to hear his resolution on the significant issues of the Wizarding World. He laughed rarely, but the few times he did, she realize he laughed as if he had nothing in the world to be concerned about. He smiled often but it was rarely the genuine smile. No, he smirked. He wore that smirk like it was a trademark of his existence and many days she wanted to wipe if off his face. She knew why too. She knew that smirk said everything she needed to know.

It took her one day to really see him. After years of him calling her "She-Potter", "Little Potter" or his favorite, "Fire Dragon" she had believed he was as cold as everyone had said. His grey eyes held little warmth and were as icy as his remarks. She had deemed him "Ice Prince" or the "Slippery Snake". She was certain he was not human. He knew nothing about emotions. He was just as they said. _Cold. Dark. Evil. Gutless. Ice Prince._

Until that day. The day she took her eyes of his perfect hair, his clean uniform, his teasing and focused on his smirk. She could not remember what had lead her to stare at his lips but somehow her eyes trailed there and she realized: He was perfect. He was perfectly good at lying, pretending, and oppressing everything that he wanted to hide. He was not cold. He was defensive. He was broken. His eyes were not icy, they were empty. They were void of hope. He did not walk with confidence, he walked as if he had to in order to survive. He was a survivor. When he spoke, it was not so that others could hear him, it was so that they would finally_ listen_ to him. He was an Ice Prince. He lack warmth. Not because he did not want it, but because no one gave it to him. She pitied him.

When he continued insulting her, she just smiled and walked away. The first time she did it, he just blinked. He continued with his teasing and each time she smiled. Eventually he stopped trying. He continued being the Ice Prince. The day he graduated, she congratulated him. He said nothing. Everybody had questioned her sanity but she knew what she was doing. She knew him.

She kept tabs on him after he had graduated. He excelled. She expected nothing else. He was intelligent, cunning and ambitious; all qualities of a good Slytherin. She kept a folder of all the newspaper articles about him. She smiled at how they praised him for his accomplishments to the field of magical medicine. In the past two years, he had discovered three different ways to cure Vanishing Sickness and was currently working on a cure for Spattergroit. She was proud of him. Not in the way a parent was proud of their child or a person proud of their mate. She was proud of him in the way you are proud of something that is out of your reach.

She did not stop supporting him. Every conference he had, she attended. Every speech he made, she was there recording him in his glory. Although, she never made her presence known to him. She sat in the back and watched as his eyes lit up speaking about something he loved. He was always so charismatic. He knew which words to say and despite his years of being a pompous arse, he managed to turn his arrogance into charm. For the next five years she kept on the sidelines, cheering him on silently. Letting him know that he did not have pretend anymore.

What she did not know, was that he knew her too.

He knew her like he knew every potion existed. She was shy but he knew she could get violent when provoked. He knew how her nose flared, her hair blew wildly and her hands would clench into small little fists. When she spoke, she would blow at him as if she were a dragon fighting some enemy that had provoked it's slumber. She was warm. Her eyes were the color of milk-chocolate melting on your fingertips. Her lips were the color of the cherry stain on your shirt after eating so many on a hot summer day. Her hair was the sun. But he knew, she was not happy.

He had seen her many days in the library. Her eyes glued to a book almost as if she wished to jump into the pages. He knew she was intelligent, in her own way of course, but something about the way she held the book peaked his curiosity. He spent weeks examining her until he realized. She was not reading. She was crying.

He kept provoking her. It satisfied his need to watch her throw a tantrum in front of him. He needed her fire. Until that day, she had kept her composure and just smiled at him. He was lost. Where had her fiery personality went? Even after all his attempts, she continued to smile. He had not given up on her. He just stopped taunting her and redirected his energy into studying her. At first, he thought it was a way to annoy him but then he realized she had something hidden in that smile of hers. It was a genuine smile. It was the same smile he had envied the first time he met her. He could not understand it. It confused him more when she had publicly congratulated him after his graduation. With that smile on her lips, she said his name as if she had said it so many times before. Yet, she had not. They did not say each other's name. They referred to each other in pointless nicknames and haunting last names as if to burn the other's existence. That night, he dared whisper her name on his lips. _Lily_. It flowed out of his mouth like a forbidden wish or curse. He did not know. He kept saying it until he grew angry at her. What was it that she wanted? He did not understand her.

He kept tabs on her in Hogwarts. He grew tired of waiting for her to explain herself that he busied himself with his work. He was so lost in his work that he did not realize she was there. He was speaking at a conference one evening when his eyes came across a shade of red hair in the back of the room. She sat there. Her eyes locked on his and she wore a smile. It was not the same smile she had given him years ago. No, it was a smile that reflected pride. He was more confused. Why would she be proud of him? He noticed over the next three years she was there to every conference or speech he attended. She would sit in the back and wear the same smile every time.

He knew about her. He watched her every move as a Journalist. She had risen to the top of her field in two years. She was the best. He had kept many of her articles, particularly the ones she wrote about him. He whispered her name as he stared at the words she wrote. She called him, brilliant, successful, ambitious, charming and confident. He had framed the article and kept it on his desk. He cherished it as if the words would one day disappear from him. He kept saying her name every day, whispering it against his fingers as if she were some prayer waiting to be answered.

They knew each other but they did not understand it. One day after he had delivered his speech on the new treatment for Spattergroit, he walked up to her.

"Lily Potter." he said, a weight lifting of his shoulder. It was the first time he had said her name publicly. She froze. Her eyes locked on his. Grey. Brown. The battle seemed to resume as if there were no years apart.

"Dr. Scorpius Malfoy. How may I be of service to you?"

He smirked and she blinked. It was different. He was not pretending. He was not hiding. He was prefect. He was perfectly okay. He took a step towards her and brushed her hair behind her ears.

"It sucks doesn't it?" he whispered. She nodded, not needing him to elaborate.

"I've waiting seven years to ask you Miss Potter, why?"

She blushed. Her eyes left his and he did not need to hear her response. Yet she still whispered, "Nobody knows why the broken loves the broken. They just know everything suddenly repairs when they do."

She looked up at him. Brown. Grey. He just kept staring at her. He understood her. She understood him. They knew each other.

In a warm, chilly home where the lights remain on until twelve and the scent of hot chocolate fill the air, is a man reading a story to his daughter. He sitting on the couch with his daughter in his lap. Her blue eyes wide with excitement and wonder. During the sad moments, she would clench his shirt and he would reassure her by kissing her on her head. She would brush her blonde curls behind her ears and smile. He enjoyed reading to her. It was something he had started with his first child, his son. He was reading a favorite of his to her.

"Daddy what happens next?"

He smiled at her and read, "The Ice Prince grew weary of the Fire Dragon and admitted defeat. He explained to the dragon that he was looking for a Princess to warm his heart. He wanted to be loved. Suddenly the Earth trembled and the sky grew dark."

"Oh No!" the little girl cried.

"Suddenly, the trembling stopped and the earth grew still. The clouds disappeared and the sun appeared. The Prince stood in amazement as the sky began to shimmer. The Fire Dragon had transform into a beautiful princess. She ran to the Ice Prince and embraced him. They left the forest and returned to his kingdom where they were to be married."

"Did they live happily ever after Daddy?"

He nodded, "They lived as happy as any couple in love would."

The little girl yawned, "Do you love mommy like the Ice Prince loves the Fire Dragon Princess?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Time for bed, sweetheart." He picked up his daughter and took her to her bedroom. He tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead. She gave another small yawn.

Before he turned off the lights, he heard her ask, "Why did the Fire Dragon Princess save the Ice Prince?"

He smiled, "Because a broken heart cannot repair itself without the other half."

With her eyes closed she asked one more question, "Did mommy repair your heart daddy?"

"Yes, sweetheart. She did." he whispered. When she did not respond, he turned off the lights and headed upstairs to his wife.

"Is she asleep?"

He nodded, "Yes. Did you speak with Caelum?"

She sighed, "Yes. I swear he is your son more than mines."

He laughed, "I'm certain he got that temper from you. Ara is more like me. She is cool tempered."

His wife frowned, "That is what I'm afraid of."

He wrapped his hands around his wife and whispered her name in her ears.

"I swear you say my name as if you've never said it before."

He smiled, "You don't know how many times you've save me, Lily."

_Brown. Grey Blonde. Red. Ice. Fire._ They were so different but so perfect.

"No, we saved each other." She knew him. He knew her.

_**No one knows how the broken can love the broken.**_

_**They just know, everything is repaired when they do.**_

_**For how can a broken heart heal without its other half?**_

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**This one-shot came to me and I decided to write it. I kinda like it. Plus its more stories for this ship!**


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